What of my heart? Lucianna wanted to scream as Charlotte led her to her bedchambers. The maid kept up with a litany of mumbled nonsense, “There there,” “Get some rest,” “Allow the men to handle things,” and the most infuriating, “Your father will choose wisely.”

Luci didn’t remember bidding Roderick farewell nor entering her father’s coach.

A servant steered her clear of Lord Torrington’s family townhouse and made certain she was settled before the conveyance took off toward Mayfair.

Now, she sat at her dressing table as Charlotte brushed out her hair as if Luci were preparing for bed. It was only late afternoon. A time when fashionable men and women were strolling in the park or shopping on Bond Street, not being carted away by the powers that be—namely, her father—without so much as a fight.

She was a beautiful, fragile bird in a cage made for two—her mother and her.

Luci snorted. She’d truly thought to escape it all, carve her own way in life, never being reduced to that of a captive. The many times she’d underestimated her father had finally caught up with her. The overwhelming pain in her chest told Luci her determination had waned to desperation. And, finally, hopelessness.

She looked around her childish room with its frilly, lilac bedding and matching pillows. The window drapes were several shades darker, more of a violet. The hues should clash, throwing the room into disarray, as a pure lilac color was no match for an overpowering dark violet. However, her mother had insisted that every piece of furniture in the room be white—pure, untouched, and innocent.

Had Lady Camden tried to reclaim her own innocence as she’d designed this room when Lucianna was in short skirts and pinafores?

If it had been Lucianna’s choice—and nothing thus far in her life had been—she would have decorated the room in dark burgundy with blue accents, and the occasional gold trimming. The room would evoke a need to bow to the power held by its occupant.

However, the castle did not make the king.

It went much deeper than that. It was a sense of rightness everyone around the sovereign felt with such a man in power. The security of knowing that the correct person could be trusted to make a well-thought-out and conscious decision that would benefit all.

No matter how hard she attempted to take control of the situation with Abercorn, her friends questioned her. No matter how many times she’d declared she would not wed that murdering lord, Luci felt her voice blowing on the breeze, heard by no one.

Not no one, precisely. Roderick was aware of her wants and needs.

He was conscious of the fact that Luci would rather run to the wilds of Scotland than be joined in matrimony with Abercorn.

Did he suspect she had no such aversion to him as her husband?

Secrets and all, Lucianna still cared deeply for him. Even now after such a short time. It was his wounds, the ones he’d shared with her on their walk, and the many he still kept inside that drew her to him. However, long after the mystery of him vanished, she would want Roderick still.

A tap at the door had Charlotte setting down her brush and hurrying over to open the portal.

The housekeeper swept into the room with a full tea service, but the wooden slab did not close.

Luci tilted, narrowing her eyes on the darkened hallway beyond, as Charlotte prepared her normal cup of tea: Earl Grey, cream, and one lump of sugar with extra-hot water.

When not a sound came from the hallway except for the receding footsteps of their housekeeper, Luci focused on her beverage, which Charlotte held out to her before resuming her chore.

Lucianna closed her eyes as the brush moved through her long locks with nary a knot or tangle. It was much as she longed for her life to be: predictable, even in course, with only the occasional concern. She didn’t want a life plagued with arguments, doubts, hardships, and, worst of all, regrets.

It was the main reason she pushed so hard to prove Abercorn’s guilt. Until that day came, she would be weighed down by regrets, held down by daily reminders that she’d failed her friend not only in life but also in death.

“Lucianna?” a quiet voice called from behind her. A tone that never failed to soothe her when she doubted herself or was sad or even overjoyed. Today, it infused the finality of things. “May I come in?”

“Of course, Mother.” Luci opened her eyes to see the marchioness take the brush from her maid and nod for Charlotte to depart. With a sigh, the older woman took over the lady’s maid’s chore, brushing Luci’s thick, onyx hair from scalp to tip as she had when Luci was younger before it was deemed improper for a woman to spend so much time with her children as companions.

For the span of a heartbeat, she thought to unburden the weight on her shoulders; throw herself at her mother’s feet and beg she do something to right the situation.

However, her weak smile of greeting died on her lips.

Lady Camden never made eye contact with her eldest child but preferred to keep her stare on the brush in her hand. The action was all too unfamiliar for Luci. Even at meals, with all her children gathered, the marchioness did not speak to anyone beyond a comment on the weather or a question about the schoolroom. She’d given up her role as matriarch of the family many years ago, around the time her magnificent black hair had turned grey, seemingly overnight, and her deep green eyes had dulled, any spirit they’d once held vanishing with her last strands of self-respect.

She was a woman born into a world that afforded her no decisions beyond those allowed by her father—and later, her husband. Certainly, she was charged with planning the meals for the household, securing the proper clothing for the children, making sure they attended their studies and prepared for University. Beyond that, Luci knew the marchioness lived a solitary life; cut off from her family years prior with no friends to speak of now beyond her four children. And even they had become silent observers to their mother’s pain.

All while the man she’d pledge to love and service was serving other women.

That was a fate worse than death for Luci.

No matter the fury inside her, Luci was incapable of changing the course of Lord and Lady Camden’s marriage; however, she could never resent her mother for the life she’d chosen. Lady Camden’s four children were well taken care of, educated, and would make fine matches—even if Luci’s match was to a man over double her years.

“Mama,” Luci sighed, her eyes drifting closed once more, desperately needing to be a child again, to go back to before her mother was broken—or maybe it was just before her children noticed how injured and beaten down she was.

“Yes, my fox.” Her mother set the brush aside and stared into the dressing table mirror as Luci’s eyes fluttered open.

Smiling, Luci said, “You haven’t called me that in years.”

“I haven’t felt the need to remind you of your wit, your cunning, and your intelligence for some time.” Her mother sighed, and she appeared far older, if not wiser, than her thirty-seven years. “You are able to see through deception and take swift action to change any situation. You are very brave, my fox.”

“This may be beyond my control, Mama.” Luci reached up and grasped her mother’s hands that hovered directly over her shoulders. “I fear Father is not one to be trifled with, especially when he believes this match will benefit his many business ventures.”

The marchioness clicked her teeth and shook her head. “I have long thought you would be the one to rescue us all from your father’s domineering, cruel ways. Especially with your secretive activities since Tilda’s death—”

“You know, Mama?” Suddenly, Luci had to see her mother’s eyes, know if her mother detested Lucianna’s means for handling the unsavory man in their lives.

“I was uncertain, at first, but then, after the night your father brought his mistress to that ball, well…“ Her mother focused once more on her task of brushing Luci’s hair. “When the Gazette soundly thumped your father, I knew you had had a hand in the deed. And while I said nothing, inwardly, I cheered your spirit and your bravery for calling out the man.” She went silent for a moment, and Luci’s heart skipped a beat. It was the first time, in many years, Luci felt she had an ally in her home instead of more people to protect. “You will save us all, I have no doubt.”

It was much to ask of a mere slip of a girl, barely venturing into womanhood; however, Luci never wanted to let her mother down. She feared that if she did, the woman would lose all hope for her future and that of her younger offspring if left solely to the devices and whims of Lord Camden.

There was so much pressure in her mother’s few words.

Lady Lucianna was to be her mother’s only hope for survival.

Her chin lowered as she pondered the greatness her family expected of her. Anger raced up her spine to think everyone seemed to believe it was her responsibility to prove Abercorn had killed Tilda, to stop her father’s overreaching abuse of his family, and to find a way to stop her betrothal to Abercorn.

She was only nineteen. She’d never been outside of England, and even more rarely away from London proper. How could anyone think her strong enough, witty enough, cunning enough, to do anything to help them—let alone drastically alter her own life’s path.

“Mama,” Luci asked, pressing her mother’s hand to her cheek. “When did you decide to give up, allow Father the reins, and step back into the shadows?”

She knew from the tears brimming in her mother’s eyes that she’d hurt her, but still, the question hung in the air. “I have never given up, Lucianna.”

“But Father does whatever he wants. He parades around one mistress after another, rarely accompanies us to societal gatherings, and we hear him shouting at you when you think we are all fast asleep.”

Luci watched as a small smile spread across her mother’s face, making her appear not much older than Luci herself. “I think you have the wrong impression, my little fox.”

“How?”

“He parades around his mistresses because I give him leave to. He decided early in our marriage he was not cut out to be the husband I desired, and so, he’s lived all these years without me by his side.”

“That is your choice?” Luci was shocked, stunned almost into silence. “Does it not hurt to see him showing off his mistresses?”

“At first, certainly.” The marchioness sighed. “I thought, ‘what have I done? I pushed my husband away because I could not bring myself to accept him for the man he is.’ Over time, this did not concern me because I have always had the task of raising you and your siblings in proper fashion.”

Luci doubted she knew her mother at all.

If one did not know their own flesh and blood, what would keep her from doubting every person she met and the society she’d been born into?

“Your brothers will grow to be kind, compassionate, humorous, loving, and loyal men. It is sad it took your father’s disloyalty to his family to show Matthew and Derek all the things they did not want to be.”

“What of Candace and me?” Luci asked. “Are we growing and learning in your image?”

“Heavens no, my child.” The marchioness came around and sat next to Luci on the bench. “I have raised the pair of you to be independent. Taught you to make your own decisions. Never fear risk—or the rewards that might come from it. Oh, and most importantly, I’ve taught you both to never allow a man like your father to dictate your life. Lucianna, use your cunning and your wit to take hold of your fate.” She squeezed her daughter’s hands.

“And what happens when I am gone?” Luci sighed. “You, Candace, and the boys will be alone against that monster.”

Her mother’s chuckle was infused with a deep hurt, driving Luci to apologize, but her mother held up her hand to silence her. “You cannot worry about us. Your brothers will leave for University before long, and Candace still has many lessons to learn, but I will endeavor to keep her away from your father.”

“And you?” Luci looked into her mother’s deep green eyes, so much like hers though they held an exhaustion Luci hadn’t noticed.

“I will continue as I always have, loving the man I married and praying every day he returns to the kind, honorable lord I was proud to wed all those years ago.”

Had her mother had a plan all this time?

An ache settled deep in Luci’s chest at the thought that her mother had known her goal all along but had not thought enough of her daughter to share. Luci could not believe that to be true.

“He is a horrible man, but you still love him.” Luci leaned her cheek on her mother’s shoulder. “That is—“

“The place that hope begins, draws strength.”

“How can you be so certain he will return to the man you married?” Luci begged.

“I am certain of nothing except where my own heart lies. And that is with your father.”

“Even if he does horrid things? Even when his temper gets the best of him? Even when he demands your daughter wed an unsavory, dishonorable man?”

“Just because the Marquis of Camden demands something does not mean it is to be.”

A rattle at her terrace sounded, pulling Luci’s attention from her mother to the windowpaned French doors leading onto her private veranda overlooking the street below.

“Did you hear that?” Luci asked.

Her mother tilted her head and listened, just as another round of rattling assaulted her panes.

She shook her head. “No, I am sorry. I do not hear a thing. However, I will request that Charlotte and the housekeeper allow you to rest. Someone will be by later this evening to stoke the fire.”

The women stood and embraced. How long had it been since she’d set her arms around her mother and pulled her close? She’d half expected to find the older woman’s shoulders gaunt and bony, as if she wasted away due to neglect, but her mother’s shoulders were as solid as Luci remembered them.

Another handful of pebbles clattered along the veranda and hit the window.

“Are you certain you hear nothing?”

Her mother smirked before pecking Luci on the cheek and turning to leave. “Have a restful night, my little fox. Do not forget, a fox always knows their way, even in the dead of night.”

Luci swore she heard her mother chuckle as she closed the door to her daughter’s room.

Pushing her waist-length black hair over her shoulder, Luci hurried to the door and turned the lock before facing the unmistakable sound coming from her veranda.

Her heart thumped nearly out of her chest as another spray assaulted the window.

For only a brief moment, Luci considered fleeing her room and calling for a footman to explore where the noise had come from.

Even with that plan still solidly in mind, Luci moved toward the French doors and reached for the latch.